One Step At A Time
by ABlurInTheWind
Summary: The team has a new team mate, Klarion. And slowly they learn more about the Witch Boy from Limbo Town, and the world of secrets he comes from.
1. Chapter 1

**So, yes, I know that I've got a lot of stories out at the moment. But I'm having a Klarion the Witch Boy obsession so deal with it. XD Now onward!**

**Title: Sleeves**

**Summary: The team is forced by Batman to go to the training room to "Bond" with Klarion, their newest team mate.**

Klarion had joined Young Justice about roughly two months ago. If he gets the amount of time wrong, oh well. Sue him. (He'd like to see you try.) He never wanted to be a part of the team of baby heroes anyway. Stupid Nabu.

Or at least that's what Klarion says about Nabu. Wally knows from first hand how Doctor Fate can be. After all, he had been Fate for a short amount of time. So even though he still didn't fully trust the witch, he can see where he's coming from.

Wally's noticed some strange things about the mage. He wasn't stalking, thank you very much. Way's a scientist and he observes. Force of habit. He's not a creeper. (Artemis would say differently.) He could go on and on listing ways about how he's God's gift to Earth, but that still doesn't change her opinion. Or the fact that he's noticed these things about Klarion. Small and large.

If Wally remembers correctly (and he usually does) the first time he noticed some thing was when Batman had finally had enough of everyone skirting around Klarion and the fact that he was a part of their team now. That they actually had to talk to him and interact with him. A former villain who only changed sides because he was forced to by Doctor Fate. (He'd grabbed Teekl and threatened to throw her from the top of Everest while Klarion watched.) So as a bonding exercise they were going to suffer through a combat training sequence. He's pretty sure the others didn't say "suffer" in so many words, just himself. But whatever, he believes what he wants.

In the end though Wally guesses he should be grateful or something, because as it turns out watching Klarion fight is pretty entertaining, and he notices something kind of strange. No matter how hot it gets, the witch never rolls up his sleeves.

He's currently in combat against Connor and the clone already has his shirt stripped off. They've been at it for a good twenty minutes so it's not hard to see why Connor currently prefers to continue in half his birthday suit. Klarion however hasn't made even one move to unbutton the (admittedly cool) suit coat that's his trade mark attire or roll up the sleeves. Normally Wally would barely think anything of it but he's not fighting and can still feel the heat, it's enough to be at least a little uncomfortable.

So Wally's intrigued and finds his eyes more often then not straying to watch the long ends of the sleeves curl around Klarion's thin wrists.

"Aren't you hot, Klarion? You could always roll your sleeves up or something, dude. Take of your coat and shirt if you need to." he says. The witch boy had been in the in the process of throwing a pulsing orb of red energy at Connor when Wally asked the question.

Klarion loses his seemingly otherworldly grace for a fraction of a millisecond. The sphere of spells visibly misses Connor, whizzing past his shoulder and leaving a dent in the supposedly undentable wall. Wally hears Klarion mutter something (probably a curse to his family name) before Connor has him pinned to the floor mat.

He's obviously not a happy witch, because he hisses, "_etativel siht fao ffo em won!" _and Connor's squashed against the wall in the next second. Klarion stands up and brushes himself off rather stiffly and leaves the room with out another word.

It's been three days since then and Wally's brain is about to explode. He knows he shouldn't be over thinking things, his voice probably just startled Klarion and that's why he missed on his attack. But the brain of a scientist never rest and now Wally _has _to know. So he instigates the help of M'gann. With her telekinesis she had make Klarion's sleeves rise up while looking like an accident. It takes a lot, but he finally gets a reluctant Martian accomplice on his side of the field.

Later that day he casually (He thinks it is. He's Wally West. He's smooth.) signals M'gann and the poor girl nods her head and looks in the general direction of the witch boy as to not be too obvious, and lets her eyes take on a green fog like glow. Klarion's bringing his arm forward to pet Teekl again when his sleeve to his left arm "catches" and pulls up.

Oh.

_Oh. _

Wally wasn't expecting that. This scenario never crossed his mind.

Because running al over the surface of Klarion's skinny little white arms, are angry burn.

M'gann gasps and their cover is blown. Klarion wrenches his sleeve down and flies from the chair. He stares at them and his eyes are filled with an unfamiliar to the witch boy's face. There's anger and rage and over all chaos in those black eyes. But there's also what looks like _fear._

_"tegroF.", _Klarion growls. M'gann looks like she does, turns her head and goes back to watching the tv. Klarion runs from the room.

Wally doesn't forget.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys, I'm back. So some of you asked why Klarion says his spells backwards, even though the only like he did it was to mock Zatanna. Well the answer is simple as I LOVE hearing Klarion speak spells instead of just conjuring them. Plus it adds to the intensity of the story. **

**Title: Slender Man, Slender Fingers**

**Summary: Everyone has a talent. Be it Wally and eating everything in sight, Dick with his acrobatics, or Artemis with her bow. So naturally Klarion must have a secret talent too, right? It's just a matter of weather you pay enough attention to see, or hear, it.**

Artemis can take a lot. She can spend hours a day training and taking meta human punches. Can hold back the string of a bow without her fingers cramping or arm muscles twitching in pain. She can take a lot, but only so much. There's no way she'd ever let anyone hear her admit or think that. (M'gann has a bad habit of opening her mind to others on accident. Like a door you want to close but won't fit in the jammer, so it stays open every so slightly instead of fitting every so nicely.)

So sometimes to try and calm her racing mind or electric beating heart she'll take walks around the mountain. Through dark tunnels with flickering lights, into brightly lit rooms, to storage halls that have been forgotten. Covered in dusty snow that gives way to her boots as she steps across the floors of cold concrete.

A few months ago Artemis had found a room, it was filled with a strange collection of anythings and everythings. Old instruments, mostly. Large violins and small guitars, harps, drums, and so many more. However her favorite piece of the entire room was the large shinning black grand piano that rested in perfectly in the middle of the room. Elegant white keys clashing with small black ones. So strange and perfect, kept in perfect condition despite the state of abandonment the room held.

To Artemis the piano was perfect. Because even though she couldn't pay she liked to sit on the bench that was the instrument's partner and run her fingers over the slick keys for hours. It was so soothing, she couldn't explain it. (She's not good with words. She speaks through her actions, violent and rough. Cold) But she knew somehow to go there, remembered the twists and turns of the halls to reach the room like the back of her hand, or strings of her bow. And when things and problems and _pressure _ piles onto her back so much to the point she thinks maybe she can't hold it anymore and her spine will snap. Puncture her heart and everything will come tumbling out and crashing down like a wave to sand, she goes to the room, and sits and just-_breathes. _The air may be heavy and itch her lungs. She doesn't care. (For once.)

Something's different today though. When she reaches within ten feet of the door to the room, she hears it. A noise. It's _beautiful. _Someone's playing the piano, she realizes. Excitement and shock grip her gut as she sneaks closer to snoop. (_Investigate, _thank you very much. Artemis doesn't snoop.) The melody is dark and storms, rain and lightning and sorrow. It's tragic and mesmerizing. Almost like a funeral, she thinks. Stepping close so her hand can grip the door and keep it from moving, she peeks her head in, as not to disturb the player.

Black horns and long claws are not what she's expecting. Not pale snow skin and obsidian eyed boys. Not Klarion the Witch Boy.

That's who it is though. She can't think her mind is playing tricks on her, she can see Klarion's shoulder blades flexing as he applies pressure to the ivory keys and the way he slightly sways to reach higher or lower notes out of arms reach. He looks lost in his tragic lullaby and Artemis can't seem to find it in herself to open the door. So she slowly pulls the door shut as not to make noise.

As she's sneaking away she can almost imagine she hears Klarion whisper, "Around, around in Limbo Town."

It's just her mind, she says. And walks away, and well, if she maybe hums a tragic lullaby when she helps M'gann make dinner that night. She pretends not to notice.

Later that night when they are all gathered around the kitchen table and Wally's stuffing pie in his mouth and Robin's cackling at him, when Kaldur is trying to be the adult but isn't really doing anything to make the two stop their antics. When Connor slips Wolf a few treats, or M'gann smiles at them all. Artemis sometimes watches Klarion's fingers drumming the table in annoyance while he restrains himself from insulting them, and thinks of them creating a different spell with sounds and sadness.

"Around, around...in Limbo Town." she whispers to herself.

Artemis thinks maybe she needs to do some research on Klarion.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter for another day. Enjoy, dear readers. And do remember these are my ideas about Klarion, not the makers of YJ ideas. So some are kind of far.**

**Summary: The team has recently become interested in the boy wonder, and his constant affinity for wearing shades. They pester and pester him. It's driving Robin insane, and a certain Lord of Chaos as well. So he decides to just tell, or show, them so he can get some much needed peace and quiet. To say the team is a little shocked by Klarion's sudden show of an unknown talent is an understatement. But hey, the eyes _are _the windows to the soul, right?**

Robin was used to the ever constant presence of the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Why wouldn't he be, he's been wearing them for so many years now they felt like a part of him. (Yeah, he knows it's weird. Get traught.) His confidence was never affected by the looks people gave him when he wore them at night when he was out with team mates or inside the cave where they weren't really needed but the Batman insisted on identity cover. In fact he hardly even head the comments or felt the stares anymore.

Of course his friends on the team like to point them out sometimes. (Wally.) Like when they go to the beach a comment is made about sunburns and shades. Wally was prone to talk about the shades quite a bit. Which Robin didn't understand because Wally already knows who he really is. (Enough about the mathlete thing, KF!) But he still points them out occasionally, like when M'gann joined the team and brought them up in the kitchen. Robin didn't think about it and just gave one of his signature smirks. He's confident in his friends respect for his privacy. He knows that they don't care. (He's wrong.)

It's starts out as small things, the beginnings of the teams curiosity. Starring when after a mission that was particularly hard and his domino mask receives a few cuts and tears. He just chalks it up to small interest, nothing too big. Except the starring continues. It gets to the point that he can even catch them out right searing daggers into his mask or sunglasses. It's uncomfortable, yes, but he still trusts them. Them wouldn't do anything about it. (Shut up, conscience.)

But they do. Robin can fee a soft barely noticeable touch at the back of his mind. Trying to get into his head. It's M'gann and he can honestly say he feels betrayed. Robin slams the connection, ripping it to shreds, and stomps out of the cave. If he hears the quiet gasp of a Martian girl in pain, well. He doesn't look back or care. What happened to privacy? (He ignores the voice whispering to him about the files he has on each of his team members.)

Tension is suddenly very palpable now whenever they are all together. No one brings up the mental intrusion try and skirts around him. He doesn't care. He's annoyed and not really feeling the aster at the moment anyways. The only person who hasn't made an attempt to out Robin invade his space in anyway is Klarion. And Robin isn't sure is he should be grateful that one person is still behaving normally or be worried because he _isn't _in with the others. Paranoia's getting to him, man.

It's been almost three weeks and Robin's starting to feel a bit insane. He can't take much more of the constant whispers from the others when they don't think he can hear them (He can always hear them, he's the _Batman's _partner.) and the flickering eyes across his face. Klarion still minds his own business but Robin can see little cracks in his calm façade. The tense atmosphere and energy are no doubt getting to the magic user. He thinks be remembers reading something in Klarion the Witch Boy's file about energy and emotions. He winders just how long it will be, how much it will take, before the witch cracks. Not long, as it turns out.

Their all in the cave living room and the air crackles with nervous tension, Robin's skin practically crawling. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Klarion's long finders twitch, his sharp black claw like nails digging into the drywall of the wall he's leaning against.

"So, uh, how's it goin', Rob?", Wally suddenly breaks the silence. Robin would guess it's because he can't take it anymore. Deduction skills, man.

Robin's eyes narrow behind the black shades, "Pretty good, _dude_. You know it's funny but, I don't have a headache today."

And he knows it's cold, sees M'gann flinch, but he's mad and annoyed. Later he might feel a bit bad and sorry, but right now he doesn't. Wally glares, "Dude, harsh much?"

"You're one to talk, KF.", he says. M'gann flinches again.

"Robin, I'm so sorry. My curiosity got the better of me and the others wished to know as well.", she meekly said.

Artemis scoff, "Don't apologize, M'gann. We all wanted to know, you didn't do anything wrong-"

Robin cuts her off and really that's as much as he can handle, "Nothing wrong? Uh, ever hear of _invasion of privacy?_"

"We wouldn't have had to do it if you had just told us in the first place!"

"Batman's rule, I can't go against them."

"Of course you can, when do you ever actually listen to orders?", she demands.

Robin bristles at that. Even though he may sometimes deviate from the original plan he always gets the job done. Artemis had no-

"Insufferable baby heroes. If you don't cease your _stupid _ arguing I'll have Teekl eat you.", Klarion sneers, Teekl meowing in his arms. "They are blue, now will you all shut your cake holes?"

And, oh. Klarion may be childish and not always word things the best, but he got the point across. Quite clearly, too. Robin for once does not know what to do. He's never experienced this before. The Witch Boy has the attention of everyone in the room now, and it's not long before questions are flying. (This is _so _not asterous.)

"Blue, how blue? Like, dark blue or light blue, or that stormy blue or-", suddenly M'gann's cut off by Klarion.

"Something like this blue.", he sneers.

Klarion leans forward and blinks his eyes, onyx disappearing behind alabaster lids for a fraction of a second before opening again. Oh. Robin's shocked to put it lightly. Because Klarion's eyes are blue. A perfectly matching set to his own eyes. _How did the Witch Boy do that? _

"Quite nice, actually. I may consider using this color for a while.", he snickers before blinking and liquid onyx rock stare at them again. Klarion flickers out of existence in the next second and the room is left with stunned teenagers and a hocking new discovery.

Robin thinks he's definitely going to need to reevaluate Klarion the Witch Boy's file. And do some research, too.

"So, blue, huh?", a voice says.

Oh, right. Robin's officially no longer feeling the aster.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, readers. I come with another chapter. You guys should see my walls, they're covered in papers with story ideas that I want to write. Well, here you go and I hope you enjoy. Please no hatred for the prospect of self harm and/or parental abuse. This is a warning now, if that type of action b****others you please do not read this chapter. If you do, I can't stop you. Detailing isn't too bad, really, but**** still. It's just a warning. Oh and, how's my writing for a 14 year old? XD **

Wally usually isn't one to curse. He likes to think that usually he's the type of guy who can hold it in and just smile, nod his head. Then walk away like nothing happened. Or pretend he was perfectly fine. Granted he pretended that already and almost had his act perfected. Just a few cracks here and there he had to get rid of, and then he'd be fine, he thinks. But Wally knows that cracks are dangerous thinks, he takes architecture in school. Knows that cracks can get bigger and wider until finally they over flow like a dam and everything spills out, crumbles down. Wally doesn't want that to happen to him, but, he's pretty sure that it already has. Probably even a long time ago, too. (He thinks he sounds poetic. There's nothing poetic about his life.)

His entire body hurts, from his head to his toes and, no Artemis, he's not exaggerating. He'd laugh at his own joke if his ribs weren't already screaming in protest. Ribs can't talk though and Wally wonders if maybe sometimes he feels like ribs. Unable to talk or control what they do. And what is he saying, is he delusional? He shakes his head, which he regrets the moments after he does it and, wow. Maybe he's not as smart as he gives himself credit for. Because if he was he would've remembered the pounding in his skull before he proceeded to try and knock his brains out. (He's smart.) His _father _went over the normal line of beating today and Wally had been the first thing he saw after he got the bad news. Better him than his mom, he thinks.

Blood drips onto his jean covered leg and, oh yeah, now he remembers why he came to the mountain. Severe injuries and blood loss combined with an unstable house hold. Sounds like the usual equation. No ones there and the air is cold, soothing his injuries and coating his bones. He welcomes it. Like a balm, a hug from a best friend, food. (He's hungry, don't judge him.) Wally slowly starts to untense his muscles, it feels like all they know how to do is form knots. He's confident no one is in the mountain at this time. After the team first formed Wally paid close attention the others schedules, and figured out one of his own, so he could come to the cave should he ever need to be alone. Or fix injures without worry of being caught. He may hate the man who raised him but he could never hurt his mother by making him go away. Despite what he did to her, she loved him.

Suppressing a curse again he reaches for the wash rag that's in the sink. He's currently in a crude imitation of the fetal position sitting on the cold hard lid of the toilet. Looking pitiful and he knows it. Paper is shoved up his nose to stop the bleeding from his father's second punch to his face. There's a nasty bruise on his cheek that has already gone from purple and black to the sickly yellow and green color, he's always hated seeing bruises in that state. The color puled at his stomach and made him want to lose his lunch. (Something he couldn't afford to do.) His lip is spit, he knows because when he breathes and air hits it, there's a stinging sensation and a metallic taste fills his mouth. Wally dabs at his lip with the damp cloth and uses his other hand to search for medical tape and gauze. He's no doctor but he's pretty sure a few of his ribs are bruised. Cracked at the most. Not good, even with his adcanced healing it's still going to take a few days to fix something like bone. (He was a super speed charged teenager, not a miracle worker.)

Of course one he got a hold of the medical tape and gauze, it was a matter of the question, _how was he going to do this himself? _While he wondered about that he didn't notice how he was slowly slipping forward. More importantly, how he was sliding off of the toilet. Until it was too late and he lay on the cold tile floor that did nothing to help his wounds. He couldn't help it, this time it just slipped out.

"Shit!", he yelped as pain shot renewed through his body.

"language, Baby Speedster.", was the almost instant retort to his slip up.

"Yeah, yeah, so sorry about that.", he replied voice full of sarcasm as he worked on sitting himself upright on the floor. Until he froze upon realizing that a voice had _answered _him when he was absolutely sure he was alone. His head snapped upward to the open door (He should have closed that.) and ignoring the pain in his neck and head he locked eyes with a pair of black ones. Klarion. If only something could be worse than this moment.

Klarion's eyes seemed to flicker over his body, probably taking note of the many injuries Wally guessed.

"Your enemies finally catch up to you?", the witch mocked.

Wally tried not to wince, Klarion was closer then he realized. Or maybe he did-no, there was no way he could possibly know. "Something like that, I guess you could say."

Klarion hummed, his nails drumming against the door jam as his cat meowed at him. Whatever it was seemed to displease the witch boy, because he scowled and sneered at his familiar, "Shut up, Teekl! It's his problem, not mine. And I have no wish to 'bond over problems' as you so helpfully put it!"

Wally watched dumbfounded as the boy argued with him cat. Neither seeming to want to loose or back down. Both completely ignoring the red head still on the floor.

Another meow, it sounding more annoyed. Wally wondered if cats could even be annoyed.

"If I remember correctly, we agreed never to bring that into discussion again."

meow. incredulous meow.

"It's not my fault they tied you up, too. You should have been faster."

And, wait, tied up? _What? _

"You at least escaped, and with barely any burns."

Meow. and a series of yowls and hisses.

"I was burned alive at the stake, while my mother called me a monster and lit the flames and you complain about not being fed? You stupid cat, you don't even need to eat." Klarion seemed to be glaring daggers at the small feline, trying to light it on fire with his eyes. Wally didn't doubt it was possible for a moment, but that's not what he was focused on.

"_You were burned at the stake?_", Wally was sure he probably half yelled that, judging by the throbbing in his lungs. That was certainly enough to stop the pair in the door ways bickering. Klarion's eyes widened and his mouth formed a small 'o'. Ever the dramatic witch Wally knew he was, the pale boy threw his arms in the air and let out a small animalistic snarl before launching a blast of red fire at the cat, who slipped off and ran down the hallway. Klarion following not far behind hurling fire and spewing curses, death threats and spells at the orange familiar.

Wally stared at the opposite end of the hall through the door, rewinding the words he'd heard over again in his mind. Klarion had been burned at the stake. By his mother's own hand. And here he was complaining about something his father did every other day. Wally may think to himself it was like experiencing death, but it wasn't a lighted match compared next to Klarion. The witch had actually _died. _So then, what was Klarion? This explained the scars that crawled up the alabaster skin of Klarion's arms, and if Wally remembered correctly, there were many witch trials and deaths in the early settling years of America. The most memorable and well known being the Salem Witch Trials.

Wally decided he wasn't going to tell anyone, at least not yet. And do some research on the Salem Witches and killings. He finished bandaging his injuries (Most were gone by now. Thank you healing.) and left the bathroom without a word and a new resolve. He'd try to be a little stronger, because his life may be bad, and he may feel like ribs. Trapped with no control, but he could have it far worse. someone _did _have it far worse. He could be dead, but he wasn't. Wally might have walked a little prouder and held his head a little higher after that. Because he'd made it this far, he might as well make it the rest of the way. Maybe he'd even talk to Klarion, try to learn his story. (Had anyone every even tried before?) Of course, after he had calmed down a bit, and not right away. But eventually.

Just one more thing to the list of things to find out that made up _Klarion. _


End file.
